


A Dinner Date With A Douchebag

by DaveFuckBitchesDrinkAJStrider, DirkDatAssStrider



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirk and Roxy and babies c:, F/F, Humanstuck, It's the alpha timeline, M/M, Multi, This Is STUPID, non sburb au, smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaveFuckBitchesDrinkAJStrider/pseuds/DaveFuckBitchesDrinkAJStrider, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirkDatAssStrider/pseuds/DirkDatAssStrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the primere party for the sequel of the second sequel of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, Rose sets up a charity event in which anyone who donates wins a chance to have a dinner date with Dave Strider, the famous movie star. John thinks it's funny to enter Karkat's name in the drawing.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> <3

John had begged you to go along to this stupid fucking première party for the second sequel of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. You didn’t even enjoy the uncultured filth that was those movies, but John said that he knew the guy who’d written it. You had nothing better to than dick around on that particular Saturday night—and John had said please.

So you went.

John had told you that it was semi-formal, but as a big fuck you to the douche who produced the filth—you went with a simple grey tshirt and a jacket, not even bothering to fix the usual wild mess that was your hair. He showed up at your door at seven thirty, dressed in a blue dress shirt and slacks. As soon as he caught sight of what you were wearing, he frowned.

“Do you want to stick out like a sore thumb??” He asked, furrowing his brows. 

You rolled your eyes, “I’m sorry, I totally forgot when I asked for your opinion, Egbert. Are we fucking going or what?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but you better not get us kicked out, dude.”

The première party was being held in the ballroom of the biggest, gaudiest grand hotel in town. The streets were lined with limos and other expensive cars, chauffeurs and valets scattered amongst the mass of vehicles. Closer up, a red carpet had been placed outside of the hotel—important looking people posing in front of the door for the horde of paparazzi. 

As you neared the front, a big bouncer with a gray handlebar muscle stopped the two of you, frowning. “Invitation?”

John nodded, digging out a piece of rumpled decorated paper from his pocket. The man snatched it from his hands, examining it closely before nodding, turning his walkie talkie on, “Egbert plus one, comin’ up.”

The inside of the ballroom was decorated lavishly with crystals and diamonds—the only downside being the large banners of Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson’s crude faces strewn all over the walls. In fact, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff’s faces seemed to worm their way into every aspect of the room—from the cakes to the toilettes that the waiters passed out.

You didn’t bother to hide your scowl. Ten seconds here and you were already pissed.

Actresses, actors, and a plethora of other famous people littered the ballroom floor—making it hard to see anything overhead with your height. Still, John lead you though the crowd like he had a destination in mind.

“Dave! Over here!”

The prick named Dave—which, you recognized as _the Dave_ \--looked up when his name was called. He was wearing those ridiculous shades that you’d seen in the magazines—and his freckled cheeks, chiseled jaw, and sun streaked blond hair was still as stupidly attractive in person as he was on paper. You hated yourself for taking notice of that.

Dave had dropped his conversation with the redheaded bombshell he’d been chatting up, turning his full attention to John, “Sup Egbert and co.” He says, acknowledging you with a tip of his head.

“Hey, dude! This is awesome! You’ve finally hit the big time, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.”

John nudges you with his elbow. “Oh, and this is Karkat, by the way.”

Dave’s eyebrows quirked at the mention of your name, his poker face being broke by a smug smirk that just made you want to punch it off of his face. Then, in the stupidest voice that he possessed, Dave whispered, “Beep beep meow.”

“Yeah, hilarious. It’s not like I haven’t fucking heard that one before.” You growled, crossing your arms over your chest. John elbowed you again, harder.

Dave just laughed—light and genuine, “What side of Shortville do you come from?”

“The side where it’s common fucking practice to shove your foot up the ass of egotistical movie star dunderfucks.” You spat, your blood boiling under your skin. The nerve of this douchebag. You didn’t even care if you got kicked out by this point, but John was looking a little nervous.

“Ooh really? Can you send me a postcard?”

“When pigs fly, you stupid fuck.”

“I could throw you and maybe you’d sprout wings.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m a fucking pig, you--”

John coughed, loudly. The people around you gave the three of you the stank eye. John started talking fast, the kind of fast that meant that he was nervous, “Hey, Dave, we’ll talk to you later. You got some people to meet, contacts to make, huh?” 

Dave’s amused expression sunk back into his poker face, and he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Yeah, yeah. Rose is on my back about that kind of shit. Says it’s better for business. But you know what? If I gotta pretend that I like another grubby-handed, fat pocketed highroller, I’ll shoot myself, Egbert. Worse tragedy than the guy from Nirvana. People will be floodin’ from every corner of the world just to put some stupid homemade flower crown on my grave, saying shit like, ‘oh, he was the voice of our generation, such a shame’. It’ll seem poetic when it was really just to escape the hell that is Hollywood. You gotta save me, man. Be the hero, Egbert.”

John laughed. “You’re as much a damsel as I’m a hero, Dave. Meaning—not. Besides, don’t you have the charity thing to get your mind off of it?”

Dave sighed. “Yeah, the going on a date for charity thing. It’s going to be worse, Egbert, and I’ll probably get saddled with some basement dweller who claims that they started liking SBaHJ when it was still a comic. Rose only convinced me to do this because the hospital downtowns needs a new child burn ward or something, I don’t know, but the damn point here is that it’s going to suck.” 

“How fucking generous of you.” You muttered, not really expecting him to respond.

He actually fucking _bowed._

“Why, thank you, Shorty McFusspants.” Dave said, wearing that shitty smirk again. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

You grimaced but didn’t say anything.

=== >

Two hours and one piece of shit film later, Rose stood on the small stage, wearing a lovely golden dress that draped down her body. You knew Rose because you were close friends with her girlfriend, Kanaya, who’d you known since you were a kid. 

John had a set of reserved seats in the front. You dully note that your seat says, ‘Reserved for Karkitty’. After sitting through the movie, you didn’t have the energy to comment on it. You just tore it off and stuffed it in your pocket.

Rose was standing next to a giant glass bowl full of little white pieces of paper. Dave stood on the other side of the stage, wearing a fake smile as he spoke, “Thank you all for coming to the première party of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: We’re Making This Happen. It’s an honor to have this many people be excited about my work. But there’s some people to thank….”

And he droned on for a good ten minutes, thanking person after person. You wondered how the hell he could remember so many. But, as the list ended, Rose spoke up.

“During the night, many of you have donated to the cause of rebuilding a new pediatric burn center for the Skaia hospital, to enter to win the chance of having a dinner date with Mr. Strider here. Thanks to an astounding response, we have, in fact, raised enough money to aid the hospital.” She paused, smiling, as the crowd clapped as cheered. “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for, where we finally draw the winner.”

She plunged her hand into the glass bowl, before emerging with a piece a few seconds later, unfolding it and reading carefully while pressing her lips together. “Hmm, well, the winner seems to be Karkat Vantas! Congratulations, and please come to the front once the party is dismissed.”

What. “What.” You say, blinking. You would have remembered entering a contest where you won a date with Douche Strider. You were sure that you never entered such a thing. You’d rather deepthroat a cactus than do that.

John was giggling beside you and suddenly the puzzle pieces shifted together to reveal the shittiest big picture in existence. You turned to say something, but he cut you off with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry, Karkat. My prankster’s gambit, dude!”

“Oh my god, you horse ass! Fuck. You.” You punch him in the shoulder, but he just cackles harder. “I’m not going to do it, you fucker. What if I just tell them to redraw? What then?”

“Aw, c’mon, Karkat. It’s for charitttyyyy.” John whined. “Besides, Dave really likes you, dude.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over you chest. “Oh yeah, sure. What fucking clued you in? When he called me a pig or assaulted my good name?”

“He’s just teasing, jeez.” John was the one rolling his eyes now. “Don’t be so sensitive. Just give him a chance.”

You looked up to notice that Dave was looking right at you. Or it least, his head was tilted in your direction. You couldn’t tell with those stupid as fuck mirror shades. Either way, he honest to god smirked.

This wasn’t going to end well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Datessss <3

On the day of the date, you’d freaked out and called the only sane person you knew. Kanaya Maryam sat in your living room, sipping tea, as you recanted the entire story of misfortune to her—half of which she already knew from Rose. She still listened patiently, nonetheless.

“Ah, well, I do not seem to see way the problem here is, Karkat.” Kanaya paused, looking you up and down. “Besides your wardrobe. Rose did say it was a fancy restaurant, so you should definitely dress for the occasion.”

You narrowed your eyes. You probably should have expected Kanaya wouldn’t see the problem with the date. The only thing she seemed fit to do was insult your clothing. What a friend she was.

“I’m not dressing up. In fact, I might not even being fucking going.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why should I get dressed up for him, anyway? It’s not like he’s going to do the same.”

Kanaya took a sip of her tea, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Quite the contrary, actually. Rose tailored the suit Dave’s wearing. It’s a dapper choice, I must say.”

You froze, your mouth hanging open. Was he actually going to get dressed up for you? Or was this more of the ‘teasing’ that John had been blubbering about for the past few days? God, if you showed up dressed like a slob, you’d look like an utter tool. And worse, Dave would win.

You couldn’t believe that you were going to ask her this. You had a bad feeling that it would be your undoing. Sighing, you sit your soda down on the coffee table, “Okay, fucking dress me up or whatever.”

Kanaya grins, showing off her pearly, white teeth. “I thought you would never ask.”

===>

It was such a bad idea to let Kanaya dress you up. You regretted it as soon as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

It was a gray suit, with a red tie—tailored exactly to fit your body, leading you to believe that it had been in Kanaya’s possession for a while, and she’d just been dying for the chance to dress you up in it. She had also combed you hair, leaving in a slightly less mess than it had been before. 

You’d protested when she’d tried to get you to wear a pair of ugly dress shoes, and she’d given in, letting you wear your ratty old converse. You counted it as a small victory.

“Remember, Karkat. Manners.” Kanaya tutted, straightening your crooked tie. “And have fun.”

“Gee, thanks, mom.” You said sarcastically, and she flicked you on the forehead right as the doorbell rang. The sound echoed through the entire apartment eerily.

You swallowed, a sense of dread sinking in your gut. Was it eight already? Ohfuckohfuckhfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck—

Kanaya had answered the door while you freaked out, revealing an impatient looking Dave, wearing a red suit with a gray tie that looked strikingly similar to your outfit. You noted that he didn’t take off his shades, no matter the occasion. He glanced up from his watch, surprised to see Kanaya.

“Did Karkitten already bail?” Dave asked overdramatically, mock-hurt.

“No, no. He’s coming. Karkat! Dave is here!” She reaches for her green jacket from the coat rack, slipping it on, “I will take this as my cue to leave. You left Dirk with Rose, right? At her place?”

“Yeah, and Rose said to tell you that you’re on diaper changing duty.”

Kanaya laughed. “We’ll see. Bye, Dave.” She said as she disappeared out of the doorway.

“See ya.” Dave paused, looking inside the apartment. You were still hiding just out of his sight, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. Dave stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Karkat, dude?” Silence. “I know you’re out there, bro. It’s not nice to lee your sexy date waiting.”

Ugh. You just had to get this over with, didn’t you?

“Hold your fucking horses, I’m coming.” You say, walking into his line of sight, pretending like you had been busy with something and not flipping your shit.

Dave’s eyebrows rose as he caught sight of you, but he didn’t say anything. The lack of sarcastic commentary clued you in, though. He was probably saying all kinds of shitty things about you in his head.

“What?” You demanded. Were you not good enough for him now? Was it too late to bail?? But…you didn’t want to see Kanaya’s angry face if you bailed. She had worked very hard on the suit, after all.

“You just look really cute, Karkitty.”

“Karkat.” You said dryly. You feel the heat crawling to your cheeks, anyway. You were begrudgingly flattered by the words, even though you’d never admit it in a million years.

===>

The fancy restaurant was exactly that. Incredibly fancy. It was the kind of fancy that you tended to avoid—mostly because you could never afford something like this. It was kind of nice that it was Dave’s treat, because you’d never fork out the money for this bullshit.

Dave’s Lamborghini—that’s right, this fuck owned a Lamborghini—got some stares as he pulled up to the valet, a young looking kid with bright blue eyes who looked shocked when Dave Strider stepped out, tossing him the keys.

“Careful with her, huh?” He asked as he paid the kid, walking over to your side and opening your door. He offered his hand to you, but you scowled, stepping out of the car and taking care of slamming the door behind you.

The valet nodded, “Yes, yes sir! I’ll be real careful with it.”

Dave smiled at the kid. “Thanks, man.”

You rolled your eyes as the two of you walked away. “Is everyone always so fucking starstruck?”

He shrugged, his smile creeping into a full out grin, “You get used to it, I guess. Are you starstruck, man? Do I need to carry you?”

You snort. “Hardly. I mean… if you were Jennifer Aniston…”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that.” Dave said, mock hurt. “What’s Jennifer Aniston have that I don’t?”

“Fucking talent.”

Dave stopped short of the doorway, and for a second, you thought that he was pissed. Your stomach fluttered at the possibility. Had you already fucked this up? It was a little odd when he started to laugh. “Damn, dude. I’m giving you props on that one.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you a fucking masochist?”

“Nah. It’s just nobody ever talks to me that way anymore. ‘Cept John. But it’s refreshing.” Dave explained, pushing the door open. 

It turns out, waiting does not apply to Dave Strider. In fact, his reputation had gotten the two of you seated so fast that you didn’t have time to blink. They gave you a private table out on a terrace, where twinkly white lights illuminated the small space. Bright, blooming red rosebushes surrounded the table, already set for two people. Overhead opened to the night sky, the moon a crescent, surrounded by billions of stars. It was strangely intimate and it had your stomach doing flip flops.

“They were expecting you.” You state as Dave pulls out your chair, and you sit. Damn, he was pulling out all the stops. Chivalry was not dead to Dave Strider apparently—although with the way he acted, it didn’t seem like he’d bother with stuff like that.

It was probably fake. He had to be here, anyway, it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. It was mandatory.

“Perks of being a movie star.” Dave sat in his seat, looking smug. He reached out to grab the menu, opening it and studying it closely. “Order whatever you want, dude, it looks awesome.”

“Mmm, you’re so fucking generous,” You mutter, opening your own menu. It did look delicious, and ridiculously expensive. You had no idea what to get, but you took solace in the fact that whatever you did end up buying, it was going to cost Dave a lot of money.

The waitress was a busty blonde woman with bright blue eyes and an all too friendly smile. Mostly towards Dave, whom she had batted her eyelashes towards and giggled. It was really fucking annoying, but, for the record—you were in no possible shape or form—jealous. Just annoyed. That was all.

You ordered a big pasta dish with two varieties of sides. Dave ordered just a regular pizza. The good thing was, both of your orders got rushed like you were sitting next to the president of the United States. At least, that’s how people were treating him.

For the first few minutes, both of you ate in silence. You tried your best not to look at him directly—that would make it more awkward than it already was. You didn’t bother with Kanaya’s ‘manners’ lesson, and from the looks of how Dave was eating, he wasn’t either.

“So,” Dave paused dramatically, waving around a breadstick like a wand, “How’s the weather down there?” 

“Fuck you.”

“On the first date? Scandalous.”

“You know that’s not what I fucking meant, you dunderfuck.” You said, the blush on your cheeks giving away too much. Fuck anatomy.

“But that’s what you said.” He accused. You wanted to punch the smug smirk off of his face. 

“Are you always this fucking annoying?”

“Mm, only for you babe.”

“You’re impossible.” You snort, trying to hold back a laugh by hiding your face with your hand. He had the fucking mentality of a five year old, and it was hilariously pathetic. His shitty films suddenly made sense.

“Cute smile.” He muttered, obviously expecting you not to hear it. 

Said smile crept over your face as you point a breadstick accusingly in his direction, your eyebrows raising in question. “What was that?” 

“How’s the pasta?” He asked, cleverly evading the question. His face was painfully blank except for a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks that could have been a trick of the light. But it made you feel accomplished when you thought about the possibility of making this asshole blush. 

You let the subject drop, anyway.

===>

Dave had driven you home, despite your protests. His Lamborghini just wasn’t safe in your shabby neighborhood, but he didn’t actually seem to care about his toy that much when you were the only person around. You kind of felt embarrassed and ashamed to have Dave see that you lived in a neighborhood such as this one. The streets were littered with filth and garbage, as per usual, and it wouldn't have bothered you so much if it had just been John instead of Dave. 

“Had a good time tonight.” He said as he pulled up next to your small apartment building on the corner of the street.

_Yeah right,_ you think but don’t say. _It was mandatory,_ you remind yourself.

You don’t really know what to say without being awkward, so you just nod and give him a muttered thanks. He presses something in your hand when you get out, and you notice it’s a small piece of paper.

“What’s this supposed to be?” You demand, giving him a questioning look.

He full out grins at you, perfect teeth and all. You were never going to admit that his smile did make you a little starstruck as he spoke, “My personal number. Just don’t call in the middle of the night or you’ll wake the kid.” 

And with that, he drove off, leaving you to wonder if this was a real number and if he really had an actual fucking kid. 

What the hell. Why were you so happy??? You grab the front of your suit, pressing your hand against your chest. Your heart was having a seizure at the thought of seeing him again, when it wasn’t mandatory, to see if he actually liked you. Wait. Oh, fuck that.

Did you really want this asshole to like you???


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Sorry for not updating, but a HUGE winter storm knocked my running water out. I’m a little preoccupied atm :T/

“Table two, order up!”

You groaned, taking the tray off of the counter and sulking over to table two, where a bunch of rambunctious college assholes sat, chatting up like they owned the joint. Working a dead end job like this, you encountered assholes on a daily basis. You were used to it by now, the obnoxious comments only going so far to piss you off.

You didn’t even try to seem fake friendly when you dropped the tray on their table. It landed with a clang that was louder than intended, and suddenly four sets of eyes were on you.

You shrugged it off, turning to leave, when you felt a tug on your sleeve.

“Isn’t it service with a smile, sweetheart?” Mr. EyesTooBlue and HairTooBlond asked, smirking at you.

You shuddered at the contact, jerking your arm out of his grip. You already felt your blood boiling and you knew the road this was going to go down if you didn’t get away from them. You couldn’t afford getting fired from this job, even if the pay was shit. So, you turned and offered him a halfhearted smile, ”My bad.” 

“Aw come on. You can do better than that.” The guy pressed, extending his slimy grin.

“Heh, maybe he doesn’t understand proper English. Guys from his country aren’t properly educated, or so I hear.” Another guy commented, bursting out into laughter. His peers soon followed in a chorus of asshole filled snark.

“His _country?_ I’m an American, you fucking--“

“Karkat!” 

You looked up to see Jade standing towards the front of the diner, her hands full of cherry red flowers, chocolates, and a rather large cat plush. She didn’t look to amused that you were about to cuss out a customer, but you’d take an earful of her lecturing if it meant getting away from these douchebags.

You approached her, arms crossed and ready for a chewing out. “Who are you out on delivery for today?”

Jade ran a flower shop, and it was rare to see her on this side of town. Not that you weren’t happy to see her—because, admittedly, you used to have a thing for Jade back in the day. Not that it mattered now, since she had a boyfriend and all, but she was still nice to be around.

She beamed. “Well, a certain McPoutypants is sulking because you haven’t called him yet! So…these are for you!”

She handed you the items, followed by a little red card that read, ‘Beep beep meow’. You grimaced, trying to hold back the incredulous laugh that was bubbling in your throat. What was this asshole’s game here?

Jade leaned in, her voice dropped to a whisper. “If I were you, I’d give him a call.”

You snorted. “Is he really that fucking desperate for my attention? I mean, he is fucking _Dave Strider_.”

“You’d be surprised.” Jade said in all seriousness, her buckteeth catching her bottom lip hilariously. “Just do it.”

=== >

You’d like to believe that Jade’s words weren’t moving you to dial Dave Strider’s number, but even you know that Jade had convinced you, with extra help from the flowers, chocolate, and outrageously oversized cat plush. The cat plush was cradled under your arm as you were curled up on your ratty secondhand couch, your cell phone in your shaky hand.

Your stomach was doing somersaults as you pressed each button slowly, pausing every so often to take a deep breath. You were going to do it. You were going to call him, and pray to god that it wasn’t some sick joke. 

You almost chickened out before your flinger slipped, pressing the talk button, the phone was ringing loudly in your ear.

Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit—

“Hello?” Dave’s thick Southern drawl made your heart flutter in your chest like a caged bird. You squeeze the cat plush closer to your chest. 

“Uh, hey. It’s Karkat.” You say, cringing at how lame you sounded. You were seriously about to pussy out and never speak of this day again.

Dave sounded surprised as he spoke, “Couldn’t get enough, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Are you really that fucking egotistical?”

“Is it a turn off?” 

Was he being fucking serious? You tried to smother a laugh, but it came out as a snort. “You’re incredible.”

“Oh, Mr. Vantas, take me now.”

“How did I fall for this bullshit? You’re just going to act immature until I get pissed aren’t you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If you say yes to going out on a date with me. A real date. Not some bullshit fancy thing for publicity.”

You paused, biting your lip. He really actually wanted to go on another date with you. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you tried to hide your giddiness, “Y-Yeah. When?”

“Saturday. My place. Eight.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk i gave them backstories and its shitty IM SO SORRY :000

Your name is Dave Strider and you’re still not used to having your hands full with snotty, whiny babies. It hadn’t been that long since you’d gotten Dirk, a doorstep baby with a note taped to his head that said ‘He’s yours’. It wasn’t very hard to get custody, either, since his mom was a no good crackwhore.

A few weeks later, Rose had given birth to Roxy after *he who shall not be named* had split, leaving her to raise her kid alone. At least that’s probably what she thought before she had met Kanaya a few months later. 

Point was, the two of you weren’t exactly accustomed to the lifestyle of being parents yet. Your career was in full swing right now, and so was Rose’s, and that’s why the two of you took turns as babysitters for two rambunctious one year olds.

It was on a night like that—Saturday night, the night that Karkat was supposed to come over for your date—when Rose said she had a fancy author’s party to get to, conveniently dragging Kanaya along with her. John had volunteered to babysit Dirk and Roxy so you could have your date with Karkat.

You were trying your hardest to get these two shitheads to fucking sleep before John and Karkat came over. Your shades were pushed up on your head, both of the kids in your arms, rocking them back and forth when Roxy giggled unexpectedly in your left arm. You eyed her suspiciously.

“Roxy, I swear to fucking god, if you mess up that diaper after I just changed you…” You let the subject drop when your phone vibrated in your back pocket. Carefully, you sat a tired eyed Dirk down on the couch, followed by a giggly Roxy. You shot her a look that said ‘I’m watching you’ as you fished your phone out, glancing at the screen. 

John had texted you.

**From: dickbert**

hey!! we’re downstairs! you should come let us up :B 

**To: dickbert**

whats the magic word

**From: dickbert**

Aw come on, dave. Seriously?

**To: dickbert**

wrong the magic word is karkitten 

**From: dickbert**

He said to say fuck you and your horrible nicknames. let us innnnnn 

**To: dickbert**

im warning you dude its a baby fiesta up in this bitch 

prepare for that shit yo 

===>

“You weren’t lying about the baby fiesta, huh?” John noted. Roxy eyed him suspiciously, but then he gave her a goofy smile and she erupted into a fit, wailing and crying. Dirk followed suit.

John laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haha, whoops.”

Karkat elbowed John in the side, “Good going, Lord Shiftforbrains.” 

“Been trying to get them to sleep for the past two hours.” You said dryly, scooping both of the crying babies into your arms again. They weren’t having none of your rock and hum routine, both of them wailing and wiggling.

Karkat extended his arms in your direction, to which you raised an eyebrow in question. What kind of possible help could a kid like this be with babies?

Karkat narrowed his eyes, looking impatient. “You want them to shut up or what? With a routine like that, we’ll be here all night.”

You sighed, handing him the kids, whom he cradled carefully into the crook of each one of his arms. He bounced them lightly, humming a tune that you didn’t recognize. Immediately, the crying settled down to a low coo as you and John watched in fascination. 

“Wow, Karkat. What are you, the baby whisperer?” John commented, looking astounded.

You raise your eyebrows. Admittedly, you were thoroughly impressed. Progress like that would have taken you all night. You watched as Dirk and Roxy took an immediate like to Karkat, falling asleep in his arms without any fuss. 

Karkat shushed John, dropping his voice to a whisper, “It’s just some dumb lullaby that I overheard when I was a kid. Now, where’s the crib?”

===>

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you don’t try to hide the snicker that came out of your mouth when you got an eyeful of the rusty red pickup truck sitting in Dave’s garage. 

“The fucking Lamborghini was just for show, then?” You asked as he opened the passenger door for you, rust specks falling off the door and coating the pavement. You climbed in, slamming the door behind you.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, wearing that dumb smirk on his stupidly attractive face. “This is the real Dave Strider you’re witnessing here, man. No other person has stepped past this point. No flash photography, please.”

You rolled your eyes, fastening your seatbelt. You knew that was a straight up lie, because you’ve seen Dave smeared across magazines of all kinds, each time suggested that he was having a ‘scandalous affair’ with a model, actress, or famous person. He’s definitely dated better than you—and that left you wondering why he was even faking interest in you now.

He literally could get any woman he wanted, and he’s volunteering to date a piece of hood scum like you. What is this horrible game he’s playing?

And why are you fucking letting him win??

“Where are we going?” You asked after a few minutes of self-loathing. 

“Dude, prepare yourself for the best pizza you’ve ever tasted.” He answered, full out grinning, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile like that. You wondered if anybody else had seen that smile and thought the exact same thing as you—about how lucky you felt to actually see it, even if it probably wasn’t genuine.

 

The restaurant was surprisingly not fancy like you’d expected, making you less nervous than before. It was a small pizza joint stuffed in between a barber shop and a hardware store. The neon sign overhead said, “Tony’s Pizza Palace”, but a few of the letters were missing so it flashed, “Toys Pzza Paace” over and over. 

Dave parked, cutting the engine. From outside, you could smell the various aromas that reminded you of home—well, Kanaya’s home. Her mother had been very gifted at cooking Italian food, always inviting you and your brother over for dinner when your father didn’t come home from drinking. That seemed to have happened often—most of the time, you and your brother never left the Maryam household.

Inside was small—decorated lavishly with old black and white photographs, which you noted that a younger version of Dave occupied some of them. A few others were of Dave now—accepting awards, posing for pictures… one with him and a busty woman, both of them looking at each other and smiling.

You swear that you weren’t fucking jealous of a _photograph._

“Yo, Dave!” A burly man with a thick mustache emerged from the back room, his expression jovial. He had a thick Italian accent as he spoke, “You shoulda told me you were comin’. Coulda prepared something…I dunno, more celebrity-ish?”

Dave shook his head, saying something in perfect Italian back at the man. The man nodded and smiled even wider before whisking the two of you of into the biggest booth seat in the joint.

“What did you say to him?” You demanded as soon as the man was out of earshot. 

Dave crooked an eyebrow. “Just told him about my date.”

“What about me?”

“Mm, that information will cost you.”

You crossed your arms, mumbling under your breath. Even if he wasn’t being a fancy asshole, he was still going to be a childish asshole. Shit like that was probably ingrained in his personality.

“What will it cost me?” You press.

“A kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“Yup.” He said smugly, putting his elbows on the table.

“Fine.” You mutter, standing up and grabbing his shirt collar, yanking him closer to you. Your lips smashed together clumsily—but it probably couldn’t have been a better first kiss. He tasted like mints and smelled like aftershave, all of it overwhelming, clouding your brain.

You were fucking doing it. You were kissing a movie star.

You pulled away first, settling back into your seat. It was your turn to look smug, while Dave looked a lot more disheveled than usual. He straightened his shades on his face, smoothing out his shirt collar. His face was a tint pinker than usual, and you took pride in that fact.

Vantas-1, Strider-0.

“Damn.” He said after a few seconds, nodding a little in approval. “I gotta give it to you, Vantas. You’ve got balls.”

“Yeah I do, now pay up.”

“You really want to know? Fine.” He leaned back over the table, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I just told him how special you are.”

Shit shit shit. Vantas-1, Strider-1,000,000. Dammit. He was winning this game so hard.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered, leaning back in your seat. Dave looked ridiculously smug as you struggled to hide your embarrassment.

The pizza arrived twenty minutes later—twenty minutes of Dave pressing your buttons until you wanted to kiss him and kick him—and it actually looked amazing and smelled just like how Ms. Maryam would have made it.

You took your first piece, biting into it cautiously. The cheese was warm and gooey in your mouth, and you tasted spices that reminded you more of home. 

“Great, right?” Dave said after devouring his first piece. 

“’S pretty good.” You agreed. It was actually too fucking good, like holy shit, you wanted to marry this pizza. But you weren’t about to admit that to him, not after the embarrassment that you had suffered earlier. “How do you know the owner?”

“Foster dad.” Dave answered, picking at his second piece of pizza. “Tony’s always been a good father figure, even if I only got sent to him when I was sixteen. Helped get me on my feet after the system chewed me up and spit me out.”

“Oh.” Was all you could supply. You knew how that went—you basically grew up with your neighbor being your motherly figure and your brother being your fatherly one. Having a normal family had always been your dream.

“How about you?” He asked in between bites. “What’s your story?”

“Ah, well. It fucking sucks. You sure you want to hear it?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

You shot him a look and he held his hands up in defense. Sighing, you recant your entire tale of woe to him, from how your mother had left after you were born, and how your dad had blamed you for it. He took out his rage when he was drunk, which was usually most of the time. Kankri tried to take most of the beating, but your father made sure to save the worst of it for you. 

You talked about how you and Kankri couldn’t go to school without wearing sweaters hand knit by Ms. Maryam, even if it was August. It was for the best—to hide the bruises so nobody would figure out what was happening and put you in foster care, away from the Maryams, the only real family that you had. 

“When Kankri was eighteen, he left. Just up and left, without saying a fucking word. He left me with that man for three long years, and I still haven’t heard from the bastard since. Don’t even fucking want to. I busted my ass working two jobs and studying so I could graduate from high school at the very least and get the hell away from that place as soon as possible. The day I left, that man wouldn’t even look me in eye as I said goodbye. Last fucking thing I heard on him was that he was homeless in god fucking knows where.” You sighed, taking a deep breath. “And now I’m here, stuck in a shitty job in a town only for the rich.”

“Shit, dude.” Dave had a piece of cheese sticking out of his mouth as he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“Well don’t be.” You snapped, but then exhaled, feeling deflated.” I mean, it’s whatever, you know? Shit’s in the past.”

=== >

“Dude, holy shit.”

“What?”

Dave was jumping up and down in front of a claw machine, looking like an overhyped six year old. “They have a claw machine.”

The two of you were standing in the back of the pizza place, right where a shiny new claw machine sat, filled to the brim with stuffed animals that you could probably get at a dime shop. Dave didn’t seem to care as he fished two quarters out of his jeans, sliding them into the machine.

His tongue stuck hilariously from his lips as his brows furrowed in concentration. You snorted, obviously not expecting him not to actually win anything. As he placed the claw in position, it dropped in the mountain of plush, emerging with a small red crab plush.

“Ta-da.” He grabbed the toy out of the machine, handing it to you. “A crab for Crabbykat.”

You punched him in the shoulder playfully, “Oh, fuck you.”

“Not on the second date, Crabbykat. I am but a virtuous young flower, you see.”

Your chest was tight as you squeezed the toy in your hands. It might not have meant much to anybody else, but it did mean a lot to you. You really weren’t used to this kind of treatment, and it felt nice—however the fear that it was a fleeting fling weighed heavy on your mind.

When was he going to snap to his senses and leave you behind? Just like Mom. Just like Kankri. Just like Kanaya when she had met Rose.

It was inevitable.

===>

“Where are you taking me now?”

“Out into the woods where no one can hear your screams.” He said, deadpan, as he turned off the highway onto a dirt road that lead into an uphill slope, surrounded by trees.

“Real fucking funny, asshole.” You mutter, crossing your arms. “Where are we?”

“Lookout Point.” He answered as the truck neared the top of the slope. The trees opened up to a small opening that overlooked the entire city. The skyline was illuminated with stars and buildings alike, decorating the black sky. 

Fuck, it was so romantic. Vantas-1, Strider- 1,000,000,000,000+.

He parked so that the truck bed was facing the drop off. You moved to get out, but he stopped you, flashing a small smile.

“Let me get things ready first, okay?”

You nodded reluctantly, settling back into your seat as he got out, slamming his door behind him. You heard a few shuffling noises and even more muttered curses, but after a few minutes, he said, “Okay.”

You got out, greeted with a sight that caused your stomach butterflies to flutter. He had spread a picnic blanket out in the bed of the truck, followed by an IPOD hooked into a set of speakers. You climbed into the bed of the truck, settling beside him as he turned a song on.

It was light, a piano tune that you didn’t recognize. You curled into the crook of his side as he hummed the tune, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you stared off into the star filled night sky.

It was perfect.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m leaving town tomorrow, and I’ll be gone for about a week.”

That’s what he said to you the last night you saw him, as he pulled up to your apartment at roughly half past midnight. You didn’t really say anything about it at the time, but as you slunk back into your apartment, the realization donned on you, leaving a sick feeling in your stomach that didn’t leave you the entire night and into the morning.

A few days had passed since then, and life went on as usual. You got up in the morning and went to work—dealed with all the mundane bullshit as per usual. It was just…empty without Dave there to talk to.

He hadn’t texted you or returned your calls. You chalked it up to him being busy, but an unsettling weight lurked in the back of your mind.

Was he tired of you already?

Currently, you were eating a bowl of cereal, scowling at the television. It was noon already, and all you had done was laze around in your pajamas. You had no immediate plans for today, still mulling over the events of last night. Did that mean you were dating now or did you miss something? Could this be an elaborately coordinated prank? 

You didn’t really think that you were ever going to get used to this—whatever this was, exactly. You were more than a little cautious about getting your hopes up. Real love didn’t happen in real life, especially not for guys like you. It was just the way of the world.

You spent the rest of the day watching romantic comedies, accidentally comparing the lead guy to Dave in every single one. When the lead guy would look into the girl’s eyes and tell her that she was beautiful, your heart ached in your chest. You wanted that—so fucking badly, actually—that you felt yourself getting your hopes up, daydreaming about Strider like some love stricken twelve year old. 

That was exactly what you were.

Everything about him—his stupid face and his sarcastic attitude—was so incredibly attractive that you couldn’t help it, not when he was paying attention to you like this. 

At about six thirty, a knock at your door made you jump.

“Karkat! Channel seven right now!” Jade, fully dressed in her work smock, is charging through your apartment the moment the door was opened, looking incredibly pissed. She planted herself right on your shitty sofa as you scrambled to turn the TV on, flipping it to channel seven.

Dave’s freckled face filled the screen, and you realized it to be one of those slimy entertainment gossip shows. He was smirking in that obnoxious way he had been when you had first met him in person. Beside him, a busty lady with large blue eyes was standing close—almost too close, what the fuck why is she holding his arm like that????

“So it’s official?” The reporter—a woman with olive skin and a fake smile—inquired.

“Yeah, we’re engaged.” Dave responded, his smirk widening as he wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders. She giggled and nuzzled into his neck, sighing softly.

What the fuck. “What the fuck?” You mutter, wide eyed. A thousand girlish fantasies that you’d concocted about this guy crash to the ground in an instant, shattering like glass around your feet. All you can do is stare at Dave’s face while he chats casually about the wedding.

Your air supply became cut off as Jade took you into a crushing hug, “M’so sorry, Karat, I had no idea!!”

You shrug as she releases you, “I knew it was going to happen. It’s fine.”

It most certainly wasn’t fine.

===>

Your name is Dave Strider and it’s three in the morning. You’re at some shitty hotel on the outskirts of the state. After meeting your producer and agent out of town, spending a week away from life as you knew it, it was finally time to get back home. After driving for six hours—they offered a private jet but there was no way in hell that you were going to pass up a road trip—you had decided to crash in this danky motel in Wherethefuckville, USA.

You had to admit, you’d missed Dirk a ton when you were out. It just wasn’t the same without the little guy.

And Karkat. You’d missed him a ton too.

It was fucking weird though, because when you had finally got to use your phone again after filming at least four interviews, he wouldn’t answer any of your messages. Karkat was usually on top of those kind of things, being the guy to shove a fast, witty retort down your throat so fast that you’d choke on it. However, he hadn’t answered in two days.

But here you were, three in the god damn morning, when your phone rang. The ringtone was the Ghostbusters theme so you automatically knew it was John. 

“I know some people don’t need sleep, but I do.” You answer, yawning. “There’s a lot of beauty sleep that goes into maintaining this face, John. You’re interrupting said process and making me significantly less attractive. What am I to tell my disappointed fans--?”

“Dave, shut up for a goddamed second, will you?” John sounds just as groggy as you do.

You rub your eyes, sitting up. “Fine. What?”

“What’s this—“ Yawn. “—bullshit with being engaged to Jessica California?”

Jessica California was the rather busty attractive woman that was to star in your next movie. Your agent thought it would be a good publicity thing to have the two of you act like you were engaged, so you went along with it.

“’S all for publicity.” You mumble, heavy lidded. 

“Is there anybody you think should have known this information beforehand?”

“John, dude, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—oh.“ You pause, groaning. “Oh shit. Did he… did he see?”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m calling you at three in the morning if he didn’t see it? Everybody’s seen it, Dave, and Jade’s been on a rampage for the last few days, and she’s out for your head, dude. This was just a warning call.”

“Shit, I fucked up, didn’t I?” You groan, pushing your hair out of your face.

“You think?”

“How pissed is he?”

“I couldn’t tell you that, considering the fact that he’s not letting anybody but Jade into his apartment right now. But you need to fix this, dude I’m serious. I’m the one who set this all up because _you_ asked me to do it, and I’m not going to let you mess it all up because you can’t distinguish your persona from the real Dave Strider.” He sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “Got it?”

“Got it.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse this sad existance 4 fanfic srry

“Eat, Karkat, it’ll make you feel better.” Jade said from the kitchen. The smells of spaghetti, garlic, and spices made your stomach rumble but you didn’t budge, your eyes fixated on your television screen where some loveable doofus was proclaiming his love to a woman way out of his league. 

Food doesn’t make you feel better. Romcoms do.

Jade charged out of the kitchen with a plate stacked high with an assortment of Italian pastas—she really knows you too well—and sits it right on the coffee table in front of you, shoving a fork in your hand. 

“You’re going to eat, mister!!” She says, pouting in that way that you used to find cute when you had a crush on her, but now you can’t think of cute without thinking of Dave and god Karkat stop shit why are you thinking about him---

“Fine.” You murmur, stabbing the fork into the mountain of pasta, getting a forkful, and shoving it into your mouth. It was scalding hot, but you ate it stubbornly anyway. 

Satisfied, she leaves to go make herself a plate.

You stare at the screen, shoving forkfuls of pasta in your mouth angrily. You weren’t really paying attention to the movie—you’d seen it a thousand times. Instead, you sulked, just like you had been doing for the past three days.

Sure, Jessica California had big breasts and a pretty face. She was rich, a movie star just like Dave. They were on the same league together, and your league was way below mediocre. It was a wonder that he even bothered with you in the first place.

Two sharp knocks on your door caused you to cringe, bolted out of your thought process. Reflexively, you got up to answer it, deciding that it was probably just John anyways. You figured you at least owed it to John to talk to him, reassure him that you were okay. You open the door without another thought and find yourself staring at a hallway full of bright red roses. 

A guy with an insignia that tell you he’s from Jade’s competitor’s flower shop, stands there with a clipboard in one hand and a pet carrier in the other. 

“Karkat Vantson?”

“It’s Vantas, you halfwit.” You snap with more venom that you’d intended. 

He doesn’t seem phased as he hands you the pet carrier, wishes you a good day, and bolts. 

You don’t even bother moving the flowers inside your apartment as you shut the door, looking down at the pet carrier. A big red bow on it tells you it’s from Dave—who the fuck else would buy you something with such a gaudy bow??

“What’s that?” Jade asks between mouthfuls of pasta. She was lounging on your couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“It’s from Stridick.” You say bitterly, sitting it down on the floor. You crouch down, opening the locks. Somehow, you’re not surprised when a tiny kitten waddles its way out, with a sticky note on its back that says, “I’m sorry, call me —D”

You crumple the paper up and toss it into the wastebin.

You scoop the kitten up in your arms. It’s dark grey with wide eyes, and purrs softly when you pet the spot behind its ears. It’s cute as fuck, but it’s not going to excuse the fact that Strider is the biggest asshole to ever walk the planet. But you aren’t going to take you anger out on this kitten by depositing him in a shelter since you’d already taken a like to him.

“Aww cute!!” Jade laughs when the kitten tries to nibble on your finger. “What’s his name?”

You hold him up, fiddling with the little locket on his collar. It opened to reveal an engraving that you read even though it pissed you off. “It says beep beep meow.”

The kitten mewled at that, looking up at you.

“I’m gonna name him Meow.” You said with finality. “But I’m still not forgiving that asshole just because he sent me a cat.”

===>

“Cats are easy animals to maintain.” Jade had said.

Of course, you still had to go out and buy Meow the basic stuff, like cat litter, food, toys, even. Strider wasn’t even considerate enough to buy that shit for you, that asshole. Good thing is that John’s day job was at a pet shop not too far from your house.

When you swung the door open, the little bell rang and alerted the cashier, a small woman with beady eyes, of your presence. She stared at you all the way until you disappeared into the cat aisle, where you knew John’d be because he likes petting the kittens and pretending like he’s working.

He looked surprised when he noticed you. “Hey Karkat! What are you doing here? You… you, um, don’t look too good, I mean.”

You probably looked worse than usual—what with the sulking and all, and you hadn’t even bothered with your hair before you had left. You crossed your arms anyway, looking offended, “Wow, Egbert, you have such a fucking way with words.”

“No, jeez, that’s not what I meant! Uhm…” He paused for a second, before his eyes widened. “Dave… Dave gave you that kitten he bought, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, and I fucking need to feed it.” You murmured, reaching for a bag of catfood. 

John stopped you. “No, no.” he tutted, reaching on the top shelf for a pack of canned foods before shoving them into your hands. “It’s still a kitten, dude.”

John followed you around as you shopped, pointing you in the right direction for all the stuff you needed for Meow. In the end, you were suckered into buying a lot more shit than you actually needed to, John insisting that you absolutely needed all of it.

As you turned to leave, John informed the cashier that he was going out on his break and followed you. 

“You should really call Dave.” He said after a few minutes of tense silence. 

“Should I, Egbert? Should I really?”

“You don’t really understand the full picture here.”

You spun on your heels so fast that Egbert almost tripped in shock. With an expression full of scorn, you laughed bitterly. “What you don’t understand is that he was just fucking with me, John.”

“No, he wasn’t—“

As if on cue, Stridouche turns the corner across the street, a cameraman and reporter not too far behind. A set of guys were trailing the small group, and you assumed them to be his body guards. He was smiling in that stupid obnoxious way of his as he spoke.

Seeing him in person made you practically seethe with fury.

“Hey asshole!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat basically fucks shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uGH IM SO SORRRY I HAVENT UPDATED IVE JUST BEEN SUFFERING FOR LIKE 2 WEEKS AND LOST INSPIRATION
> 
> like i doNT KNOW IF I SHOULD TAKE THIS DOWN OR NOT????
> 
> whuteva just have this update its shitty but ugh

He looked up at that, and before you’d realized what you were doing, you’d already shoved your bags into John’s arms and stormed across the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car.

“Yeah you, Stridouche!” You manage to get close enough to jab a finger into his chest. “You’re such a fucking dicksucking asslick liar!”

All of your emotions you had been suppressing boil up at once. It’s hatred—at your Dad, at Kankri, at Kanaya—at all the assholes who’d abandoned you. Strider was just the one closest to you, and the one who was going to get his pretty face smashed in if you had anything to do about it.

“Do you know this person?” The reporter inquired, shoving the microphone into Dave’s confused face.

Dave pressed his lips into a tight line, hesitating.

You took the brief lapse of silence to turn to the reporter. “Yes, he fucking knows me. And guess what? We’ve fucking _kissed_ \--”

“I don’t know this person.” Dave said, deadpan.

The last thing you kind of remember is swinging your fist at his head.

===>

You broke his nose with one swing and got arrested, thrown in overnight lockup.

The thing about it is, this isn’t your first rodeo with the law and it probably won’t be your last. You’ve been in here a hell of a lot more times than Kankri had when you were both younger—you being the more violent of the two. So, you weren’t frightened when they tossed you into a solo cell.

 

Instead, you thought of Kankri.

He’d probably be upset about you getting arrested—lecturing you about the importance of being a law abiding citizen—and you tossed on the uncomfortable thin mattress, debating whether or not you gave a shit if Kankri was upset. You wondered if Kankri even gave a shit about you, anyways.

You wondered where he was.

You miss him.

Tears are falling but you’re too out of it to notice. Your chest feels tight as your breathing becomes little spurts in and out between your lips. 

You began miss that feeling you got when you were with Dave.

You began to realize just how much you’ve fucked up.

The air in the cell is dry and dusty.

===>

In the third hour of your lockup, a young police officer comes to your cell door.

“Vantas, you’re free to go.” He says, sticking a key into the lock and sliding the door all the way open. You give him a questioning look, but he just shrugs. “Bail’s been posted.”

He leads you out to the lobby where Dave’s standing, his attention focused on signing some papers for the robust woman behind the counter. His nose was bandaged.

“Strider.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady and even. You didn’t want to show him that you were grateful—not until you get an explanation, at least.

His head snapped up, and he looked at you, almost sheepish. “Wait a sec, lemme finish signing this, okay?”

You nod, your foot tapping impatiently on the tile floor. He finishes a few minutes later and motions for you to follow him outside. It was dark already—the moon a sliver of a crescent in the star filled Texas sky. The air was brisk around you, making you shudder.

He leads you to his pickup truck without a word.

You begrudgingly get in, still sulking. The moment he slides into the driver’s seat, he grips the steering wheel, a heavy sigh blowing out of his chest.

“Fuck, i’m so sorry.”

“I would fucking consider the fact that you’re engaged an important thing to mention to the guy you’re leading on.” You snap, “You fucking imbecile.”

“First off, I think I more than made up for that after what you did to my money maker.” He mutters, motioning to his bandaged face.

“Whatever.” You say, but in your gut, you felt slightly guilty. His face _was_ his moneymaker, no matter how conceited that sounded.

He sighs again. “I’m not engaged to her.”

“But… you…”

“I’m a public figure, dude. I have to lie for publicity sometimes.”

A heavy weight lifted off of your shoulders and you let out a shaky breath. “You should have at least told me, asshole. I probably made a complete ass of myself on TV.”

He smirked. “Oh, no, I took care of the footage.”

You sigh again, letting yourself completely relax into the seat.

“I took care of that footage… but not before telling them about my super crabby and surprisingly strong boyfriend.”

“Is that your way of asking me to go steady?” You snort, crossing your arms. Internally, you may or may not have been freaking out like a twelve year old girl at the prospect of Dave telling the world that you were his. That he was yours. 

He leans over into your seat before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Your face heats up significantly out of embarrassment. You hide your face in your hands and groan, “It’s a yes, asshole. But if you ever do that again…”

“I won’t.” he says, and when you shoot him a worried look, he reassures you. “Promise.”

===>

You woke up to the sound of Dirk crying.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and stretching until your fingers make contact with something. A shoulder. Karkat’s shoulder to be more exact. He’s curled up towards you, his face peaceful in his sleep. The events of last night come in a blur—and you’re wincing at the dull throb your nose gives off when you brush your fingertips against it. Damn, can he hit hard. You make a mental note to never ever piss him off again. 

You reach for your shades on the bedside table, finding them and slipping them on. They sit on your face weird because of your bandaged nose, but you can’t really bring yourself to go shadeless around Karkat yet. It’s too soon for that and you didn’t want him to remember anything unpleasant when he didn’t have to.

You carefully slide out of bed, as to avoid waking him, and slip on your totally ironic MLP houseslippers. Dirk is stirring in his crib at the edge of your bed, wriggling and sniffling. You scoop him up and balance him on your hip as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Dirk fusses when you try to deposit him in his highchair, so he’s glued to your hip as you start cooking breakfast, which, in the Strider household doesn’t go far pass prepackaged goods and maybe bacon and eggs.

About thirty minutes and one fussy baby feeding later, your cell phone pings.

It’s your manager.

“S’hello?” You answer with a mouthful of jammed toast. 

“Dave, I’m a man with a lot of patience, but sometimes the well is going to run dry.”

“I’ve got a fussy baby, a broken nose, and a pounding headache this morning, James. You’re just going to have to hold the cryptic bullshit and cut right to the part where I’ve fucked up.” You say this with more spite than you’d intended, but James doesn’t seem to be affected by your diva routine.

“You see, that’s a part of the problem. You know you’ve got two photoshoots in the next week and you went out and pissed off some fag—“

“Bro, unless you want to offend me and a whole bunch of others, I’d cut back on the homophobic slurs.”

“You aren’t really with that guy, are you? Gay is just not good for your image, and he’s not even that good looking.”

“I prefer bisexual.” You yawn again, and Dirk follows suit. You raise your eyebrow. “And how do you know what he looks like?”

“TMZ ran the footage, Dave. It’s everywhere. God, did you really think that someone as skeevy as them would just delete such a juicy story??”

“Am I losing popularity? Is that why you called?”

“Quite the contrary. LGBT communities kind of idolize you now, even if that is the exact opposite of the ladies man image we were going for. “

“And the bad part?”

“Jessica California is actually pleased with all of the attention and people are demanding a press conference with you and your two “lovers”. They’re romanticizing it as some starcrossed lovers triangle. So the bad part is that you’re going to have to have him agree to go into the spotlight or Jessica is going to out all of your secrets, and I don’t think she’s above outing your boyfriend’s address.”

“Fuck.” You mutter, and Dirk looks at you with wide, orange eyes. You’d pretty much danced on a landmine and now you were going to pay the price if you couldn’t get Karkat to go along with it.

Fuck.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hey hi yo, wassup? I haven't updated in forever actually.. I wouldn't be surprised if all of you gave up on this fic! But, yeah, I was on hiatus because I went through a really shitty breakup and just wasn't motivated to write. :/ BUT I AM HERE NOW. C:
> 
> There's a lot of setup for plot in this chapter and Karkat keeps a shit ton of secrets.)

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you think that this is the hardest you've ever laughed.

 

"Me? On national tv?" You snort, looking at your movie star boyfriend with wide eyes full of disbelief. "You're delusional."

Dave sighed heavily, chewing on the end of a French fry. "I wouldn't even ask if my agent wasn't hounding me to get you on air. Everybody wants to know who Dave Strider's 'mystery man' is."

You fork through your Ceaser salad, looking down at the table. Your stomach tightened with the realization that Dave was completely serious. You, on tv? Sure, in a million years.

But, all things considered, you also never thought you'd be dating Dave Strider.

You shift in your chair, unable to meet his gaze. "Can't you just, hire a model or something and say it's me? I mean, does it really _have_ to be me?" 

"They've seen you, dude. You're all over the magazines." 

"Fuck."

Dave reached over the table to grab your hand, rubbing your palm softly with his thumb. You can barely see his eyes through his shades, but his smile was dazzling. You felt like you were being scorched by the sun. 

Being with Dave was a lot like that. His star power was blinding, and you still haven't gotten used to it, even after six weeks of seeing him. It was hard to deal with sometimes, especially when he had to reserve an entire restaurant to ensure a peaceful date where you aren't hounded by paparazzi.

This had been your first time seeing him in a few days--he was off doing damage control after Jessica California's tell all article about 'dating' Dave Strider. It was chock full of slanderous bullshit about Dave's so called 'explosive temper', obviously made just to make him look bad after what he had done to her.

It had been a few days of hanging out with Jade and her boyfriend and babysitting Dirk to miss Dave like crazy. Dave had wormed his way into his consciousness almost every waking moment during his absence, even more so because the relationship was still smack in the middle of the honeymoon stage. 

Dave looked at you expectantly, his bottom lip stuck out in an obnoxiously cute pout. 

God damn.

You bit your bottom lip, regretting the words as soon as they flew out of his mouth. "Fine. I'll fucking do it." 

Dave moved his chair so that he was sitting right beside of you. From this distance, you could smell his expensive cologne on his shirt collar. He buried his face in your neck, laughing softly under his breath. "Have I ever told you how super duper you are?"

"You don't have to tell me. I already know."

Dave's lips brushed against your lower jawline and you shiver, shifting in your seat. He cups your face in his hand, and he's so close that you can see the outline, but not the color, of his scarlet eyes. That was still the biggest mystery about Dave, even after this long, he was still sensitive about the color. He only ever took his shades of in complete privacy, which was rare.

Now, his eyes were full of unmistakable lust. His voice lowered to a seductive whisper as he moved closer to your ear. "How about we go over to the hotel across the street?"

Your breath hitched and your face flushed, unmistakable signs that you were turned on like crazy. Blood rushed in your ears, as you stammered out a response. "Now? Like...right now?"

"If you're up for it, I mean."

You chewed on your bottom lip nervously. Although it the relationship was in the middle of the honeymoon stage, you still haven't....

It wasn't that you didn't want to! Of course you did, just look at him. He was every thirteen year old girl's wet dream. But...

"W-well, um, I did promise Jade that I'd help her at the shop..." You mutter, looking up at the ceiling anxiously.

Dave pulled away, frowning a little. He reminded you of an impudent child being denied their favorite toy. "Oh. That's cool too."

You inwardly cringe. "It's not that I don't want to or anything. It's just that she covered my shift that time and I--"

Dave held up his hands, smiling lopsidedly. "I get it, dude, seriously. It's fine."

You opened your mouth to respond, hesitated, and closed it. You couldn't tell him about _that_ just yet. Your relationship was still new and fresh, and _terrifying_. You were positively terrified of scaring him off. After all, nobody had really shown romantic interest in you since middle school. 

And, well, you've become incredibly dependent on Dave's emotional support.

Dave's cell phone rang in his pocket, the theme song to My Little Pony blaring like a siren. Dave fished it out of his pocket and side eyed the screen with growing concern. "Fuck."

You raised your eyebrows in question. "What?"

"Dirk's at the hospital."

===>

Your name is DAVE STRIDER and right now, you think that this is the closest you've ever been to slugging a fan.

You're standing in the hospital waiting room, forcing a smile as you make your way to the secretary's desk. Karkat is right beside you, eyes narrowed into slants as he elbows his way through the crowd, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

Once you made your way to the front, even the mousy secretary looked a little starstruck. 

You huffed, trying your best to be polite. "Dirk Strider, please."

She nodded, eyes wide and pupils dilated. She stared for a few more seconds before turning to her computer and typing something. "Oh, y-yes, Strider. Room two-oh-three."

"Thanks." And with that, you grab Karkat by the wrist and pull him out of the crowd, heading down the crisp white hallway. The entire thing reeked of chemicals, burning your nose as you walked.

Dirk's room was on the other side of the building, in the pediatric ward. Doctors and nurses did double takes as you stormed right into his room, not bothering to knock.

Dirk was asleep in a hospital crib, his favorite pacifier in his mouth. A thick padded bandage wrapped around his right wrist, and an IV stuck out of his other arm, hooked up to a big drip of clear liquid. The nanny, an old Portuguese woman named Esteilla, stood beside the crib, wide eyed. 

Your blood boiled to new heights as your eyes darted from Dirk to her. Blood rushed to your head and your heart squeezed in your chest as you opened your mouth to chew her a new fucking asshole. 

Karkat sighed and pressed his palm against your forearm. You glance down at him and his fiery eyes bore into yours, questioning. His voice was a calm whisper as he spoke.

"Dave. Calm down."

You grit your teeth, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He was right. If you blew up right now, it'd be all over YouTube in an hour. You couldn't afford that, especially after the new fiasco with Jessica California saying that you had an explosive temper.

You nod and count to ten in your head before opening your mouth. Your voice was still strained with anger, "Esteilla. Explain."

She jumped, frantic in her accented English. "Mr. Strider, it was an accident, I swear! I was just making some food on the stove and he reached out to touch it when I was on the phone and--"

You hold up your hand to stop her. You were two seconds from screaming your head off. "Just, please get out."

She nods and leaves, closing the door behind her. Your fists clench and your shoulders shake as you struggle not to lose your cool, when Karkat slips his arms around your waist, burying his head in between your shoulder blades.

"At least he's okay."

Your face scrunches up in irritation. "Yeah, but he wouldn't fucking be here in the first place if I would have been there ."

"You can't just fucking go through life like that, idiot. You'll stress yourself out." He grumbled, squeezing you closer into a tight hug. 

He was right, of course. He usually was when it came to things pertaining Dirk. He was your unbiased third opinion on all things that you were too pissed about to think clearly and rationally. 

He was your rock.

The doctor entered the room as if you were a violent, snapping crocodile. His blue-grey eyes were wide and startled as he met your gaze.

"Uh, Mr. Strider, sir, I can assure you that Dirk is going to make a full recovery." His voice wobbled as he spoke, unable to look you in the face. "It's barely a second degree burn. It should heal up nicely."

Relief flooded your senses and you let out the breath you'd been holding. At least Dirk was okay. It could have been a lot worse.

===>

"Aye, Kan, you really think that this is a good idea to show up out of the blue like this?" 

Kankri adjusted his bright red sweater in the mirror before glancing over his shoulder at his unruly boyfriend. Cronus was spread out on the hotel bed, wearing nothing but a pair of worn leather pants. His expression was a little worried.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" Kankri replied, picking a piece of lint off of the front of his sweater. Neatness was key.

"Wouldn't he be a little peeved by the whole left behind deal?"

"Oh, that? Surely he's forgiven me by now. I mean, he is dating _the_ Dave Strider. His life is presumably better than when we were kids."

"So he don't hold grudges or nothin'?"

"Doesn't, Cronus, dear. I presume he doesn't."

Cronus shrugged, picking up the TV remote before flipping through the channels. "Whatever you say, Kan. I'm just along for the ride here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, Karkat gets drunk!  
> <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Two updates in one week, holy shit. XD
> 
> I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you all for reading this. And the commenters! Bless every person who has ever commented on this, you guys are amazing and I love you<3
> 
> *EDIT* I fixed the whole thing about this chapter posting twice. I guess my computer decided to fuck up or something, idek ^^'
> 
> *EDIT EDIT* I'm going to add playlists to each chapter now so you can listen to music while reading. :D
> 
> THIS CHAPTER'S PLAYLIST: http://8tracks.com/brothermars/if-i-could-write-a-rap-to-make-u-fall-for-me-i-would#smart_id

“John Egbert, babysitting extraordinaire, reporting for duty!” John saluted, flashing the cheesiest grin in his arsenal. Dirk was strapped to his chest in a sling, snoring away peacefully with his favorite bright orange pacifier in his mouth.

 

You shush him, lowering your voice to a pointed whisper. “He’s finally fucking asleep, Egbert.”

 

John nodded, looking sheepish. “Heh, forgot.”

You shook your head, pulling and adjusting your bright red tie so that it sat perfectly in center. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you saw Dave Strider, the celebrity. The one that everyone expected to see, to stand next to, to take pictures of. You flashed your best smile at your reflection, gearing up for a long, exhausting night.

 

“Ahem, gentlemen, I’d like to present the new and improved Karkat Vantas.” Rose announced as she and Kanaya ushered in a very uncomfortable looking Karkat.

 

He was wearing a new suit, obviously Kanaya’s work. It was red-blush black, so when the light danced off of the material, it flashed a dark, rich scarlet. Kanaya had even coaxed him out of his ratty sneakers, in favor of a pair of shiny black slip-ons. Rose had styled his hair in a way so you could see his entire, unblemished face. His hazel eyes were wide with fear as they met yours.

 

You raised a questioning eyebrow. He looked stunning, in every possible way. You felt a little starstruck yourself, lost in how adorable he was.

 

He crossed his arms, bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What? Do I look fucking stupid?”

 

“No, no, it’s just…” You felt like a blubbering idiot in his presence, thrown entirely off course with how blatantly attractive he looked. You were pretty sure that a tell-tell blush was crawling up your cheeks, ready to embarrass the fuck out of you. “You look really good.”

 

His expression was dutiful. “Yeah, uh, no. I look like a shitty monkey in a shitty suit.”

 

Kanaya tsked, pinching his ear and yanking upward. “I worked laboriously over that so-called shitty suit. You look positively dapper, Karkat, now accept the compliment.”

Karkat recoiled, scowling at her. “Fine. Fine, alright, okay! I look nice!”

 

She smiled innocently, releasing his ear. “That’s more like it. Now, go, have fun. I’m sure the three of us can handle the kids for the night.”

 

===>

 

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, and right now, you’re looking nervously out of a tinted window, squirming in the leather seat. Your heart is pounding like a jackhammer in your ears as you see the crowds of paparazzi and celebrities alike, all waiting to berate you with endless questions at this party.

 

Your debut party.

 

Fuck.

 

A year ago, you would have never guessed that you would end up in the backseat of a limo, getting prepared to rub elbows with some of the biggest names in show business. But here you were, thrust in the harsh reality that came with dating a celebrity. 

 

Dave squeezed your hand that was interlocked with his. “Calm down, dude. It’ll be fine.”

 

You grimace at him, grumbling under your breath. “Easy for you to fucking say. You’re used to it by now.”

 

“Sure I am.” He said, accompanying it with a bright and blinding smile. “But these rich types here, they’re all the same. They’re all concerned about how you look on the outside, and you look pretty damn fine. You just gotta bat your eyelashes and just act natural. ‘S what I do.”

 

With that, the driver opened Dave’s door, a sea of flashing cameras blurring your vision. Ear-splitting cheers deafened you as Dave extended his hand in your direction. You hesitate briefly, glancing at it and swallowing nervously. 

 

_Just act natural._

 

You grasp his hand, and he pulled you out of the limo. You were faced with a world that you’ve only ever seen through a TV screen, a world full of illuminating stars and devoted fans.

 

You, a regular piece of gutter trash, were finally among the beautiful people. 

 

Bodyguards pushed people away as you both made your way through the crowd, fingers still interlocked. The cheers and screams ran together as one crashing roar, shaking your inner core.

The inside of the ballroom was packed full of stars from movies you loved. You became a little dizzy as you passed your favorite actors, having to lean on Dave for support. He seemed more than happy to have you cling to him, parading you around like you were the belle of the ball.

 

People treated you like you belonged here, asking you questions and taking photos with you. You tried to act natural, but after an hour, your head was pounding painfully in your skull. Dave was busy having a very animated conversation with Ben Stiller when you excused yourself to the bar, only because it seemed to be the least crowded place in the room. 

 

You sit on a barstool and bury your head in your hands, letting out a soft groan. The entire immediate area reeked of booze, a familiar smell from your childhood that made your stomach churn. Your eyes stung and your shoulders shook at the recollection.

 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

 

You look up, meeting a set of sea foam green eyes. His shiny black hair was greased back, framing a very regal looking face. His smile was easygoing and carefree as he leans back in his stool. 

 

You shake your head, looking down at the counter. “I don’t drink.”

 

The guy’s face fell in disappointment. “Aw, really? Not even at your own party?”

 

“No. Alcohol fucks me up.”

 

The guy nodded understandably, waving the bartender over. “At least let me treat you to the best non-alcoholic drink in town. Bartender’s special.”

 

You perk up at the mention of non-alcoholic, watching as he ordered two Spiderbites. The blond bartender winked at the two of you, mixing the drinks artfully.

 

“You’ll absolutely loooooooove this drink. It’s always everyone’s favorite.”

 

She slid the tall glass over to you with a mischevious, blue-lipsticked smile. You eye the drink skeptically, bringing it up to your nose. It didn’t smell like any alcohol you were used to, so you figured they were telling the truth. Why would a bartender bullshit about her own product? 

 

It was surprisingly fruity as you gulped down half of the tall glass. It felt a little pungent as it slipped down your throat, but you didn’t think too much into it, enveloped by the taste.

 

“Easy there, pal.” The guy said as he watched you drain the rest of it. 

 

Four Spiderbites later, and you were swaying on the stool. Everything was warm and fuzzy, like you were coddled in a huge, heated blanket. The room was spinning and your eyelids drooped as you tried to steady yourself.

 

The guy’s hands slip under your armpits, helping you up. You glance up at him, confused, but his smile was innocent. He promised that he was just helping you to the bathroom. Your sense of alarm was muddled as he lead you out of the ballroom and into the giant, empty foyer.

 

You couldn’t bring yourself to protest as your vision blacked out and you stumbled onto the marble floor, cracking your head against the hard, unforgiving surface.

 

===>

 

“Dave. It’s only been two hours.”

 

“Exactly.” You mutter, pacing back and forth in your living room. Half of your fancy suit lay on the floor, forgotten. John was asleep on the couch, Dirk cuddled up to his chest. Kanaya was tiredly rocking a fussy Roxy, and Rose was on her third cup of instant coffee. 

 

It was two in the morning and Karkat was nowhere to be found. 

 

“Maybe he just went back to his apartment? The whole celebrity treatment may have overwhelmed him.” Rose suggested, mixing creamer in her mug. “I mean, it’s possible.”

 

You’d tried his cell phone and his landline more than twenty times, leaving voice and text messages until his inboxes were full. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you were worried about his well-being, and as the time passed, your efforts in finding him were becoming more and more frantic.

 

Rose slid a cup of coffee over to you, but you regarded It coldly, shaking your head. Why wouldn’t he tell you if he had left early? It didn’t make any sense.

 

Unless something happened.

 

You dug your cellhone out of your pocket, dialing a familiar number.

 

“Who are you possibly calling at this hour?” Kanaya inquired with a yawn.

 

“Pyrope. She’s on the police force, and she owes me some favors.”

 

===>

 

“This was completely irresponsible!”

 

“Oi, I just did as you told, Kan. I ain’t the one to blame here.”

 

“I never instructed you to get him completely drunk!”

 

“Say, what was I supposed to do? He wouldn’t of came otherwise.”

 

“We could be arrested for _kidnapping_ , Cronus.”

 

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS, and your head-splitting headache is currently the least of your worries. Your limbs felt lead-heavy as your shifted your position on what felt like a brick wall. The worn out covers itched you like crazy, and your crumpled suit stuck to your body with a thin layer of sweat. The humid air smelled thick of imitation body spray, stinging your nose as you rolled over, sleep-crusted eyes blinking blearily at the two arguing silhouettes clouding your vision. 

 

“What the fuck?” Your mouth was dry as cotton as you spoke, rubbing your eyes and finding yourself face to face with no other than your fucking brother.

 

His eyes were wide with surprise, like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He still looked as you remembered, with the exception of the guy from last night clinging to his side like a desperate, cowardly monkey. Both were looking at you as if you were a bug under a magnifying glass.

 

If you didn’t feel like udder shit, you would have mistaken this for a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch how I added Vriska and Terezi? ;) ;)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! 
> 
> The last week or two has been awful but I managed to write even though I'm exhausted! :0
> 
> Tell me what you think pls, I love your opinions. <3

Kankri coughs, gathering his calm. "Karkat, I know you're undoubtedly upset with me, but I have a good reason."

 

"Well I don't want to fucking hear it." You sit up, stomach lurching in protest at the movement. Eyes wide, you choke out, "Bathroom."

 

"In there." The guy, Cronus, jabbed a thumb in the direction of a, run-down toilet.

 

You dart to the grimy bathroom, emptying your stomach. Sharp pains cripple you as you crouch on the floor, eyes watering. You haven't felt this feeling in years, not since your father made you take up drinking to 'make you a man'. You've always been a lightweight, and your hangovers were fucking brutal. 

 

You finish vomiting, feeling queasy and disgusting. Kankri was there when you look up, holding a lukewarm bottle of water and a grease stained towel. You snatch the water from him with a scowl, rinsing out your mouth and spitting the water back out in the toilet. 

 

Wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you push past Kankri. "I'm not sure what kind of ill-conceived fuckery this is, but I'm leaving."

 

Kankri grabbed your sleeve, sighing. "Karkat. Wait. Please."

 

"Wait? You mean like you did years ago? Oh _wait_ ."

 

"Real mature." He snapped with all the viciousness he could muster. "I've actually came to issue an apology--"

 

You pull your sleeve out of his grip, heading for the door. "Like I said, I don't want to fucking hear it."

 

"It's not what you think." He assures, desperately trying to get you to stay. His hazel eyes mirror yours, pleading. "I had to leave."

 

You stop In your tracks, shoulders trembling in anger. Years of resent boiled up to the surface and you were seconds away from blowing up. Kankri had been the one to protect you, the one who practically raised you. He'd promised you every day that as soon as he turned eighteen, he'd adopt you and take you to a place far away from that man.

 

What ever happened to that?

 

Kankri turned to address Cronus, who was hanging on every word. "Cronus, dear, can you give us some privacy?"

 

Cronus looked a little sheepish about being caught eavesdropping. He nodded, "Uh, yeah, sure, Kan. I'll be at the soda machines if you need me."

 

And with that, you were alone with one of the people that you hated the most.

 

Kankri sat on the edge of one of the twin beds, the old springs popping from his weight. He patted the space next to him. "Here. Come have a seat."

 

You shook your head, voice spiteful, "That's okay, I'd rather stand clear of shitty liars."

 

He winced at the jab. "You have no idea what actually happened, Karkat, and I tried my hardest to keep it that way."

 

"Actually, I do know what fucking happened. As soon as you turned eighteen, you ran off and fucking abandoned me, despite the promises that you made. Do you have any fucking idea how that _feels_ ? I wanted to _die_ , Kankri. Every goddamn day was torture without you."

 

His gaze fell to the floor, a frown tugging at his lips. "I know." He said in a quiet whisper, seemingly ashamed of himself. 

 

"Than why did you fucking do it, huh? Wanted to go find a person as pathetic as that Cronus guy to weigh down with all your baggage? Or did you just want a good fuck--?"

 

"That's enough!" He shouted, his eyes pointedly narrowed at you. He looked pained, like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he just wasn't telling. Something poison. He stood and crossed the room before holding the door open. "I brought you here so that we could reconcile, but clearly you still loathe me. So leave."

 

You hesitated, looking at him questionably. His features were hardened, reminding you of the days where you both lived at your father's, and hiding your feelings became a sort of a camouflage for protection. The cold way his eyes were regarding you was like you were your father, and you had just slapped him across the face.

 

Your shoulders slump as the fight drains out of you. "Kankri..."

 

"Leave, Karkat. It's for the best." He said curtly. "I mean, you do have Dave the movie star to get back to. A piece of used up guttertrash like me shouldn't keep you away."

 

Guttertrash. The name your father addressed the two of you as.

 

You knew that you weren't going to get anything out of him, so you walked out, cringing as he slammed the door behind you. Cronus was standing in the hall, leaning against the far wall with a cherry soda in hand. His eyes went wide when he notices you.

 

"Oh boy." He said with a swig of his beverage. "Whatdya do to get him that pissy?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Listen, kid, I know the full story here, and you know 'proximately half." Cronus said, patting you on the shoulder. "But I'll tell ya, cuz sometimes it's hard for Kan to open up bout his feelins."

 

You raise a skeptical eyebrow at the guy who tricked you into getting you smashed. Trust was stretched pretty thin in his case. 

 

But he did seem to know a lot about Kankri...

 

"I'm listening..."

 

"Well. Your, uh, daddyo wanted to take out the brute of the punishment out on you, right? But Kan actually stepped up and took it for you." Cronus swallowed, looking a bit uncomfortable. " _All_ of it, if you catch my drift."

 

You eyes widen in horror at the realization. "You mean he was...?"

 

Cronus looked around the empty hallway before lowering his voice. "Sexually assaulted, yeah. On more than one occasion. That's why you shouldn't be that hard on him, you dig?"

 

You feel another round of bile rise up in your throat as you stumble back, using the wall for support. He did that for _you_ , so you wouldn't have to feel that sort of pain. That's why he....

 

"You should probably apologize for whatever it is that you did, chief. If I know Kankri, I know he's gonna beat himself up for months about this."

 

You nod, your throat tight. "Yeah."

Cronus glanced at you with a lopsided grin before knocking on the motel room door. "Hey, Kan, it's me."

 

Kankri opened the door slightly, eyes red and swollen, his red sweater tear-stained around the collar. You pushed the door open and grabbed him in a tight hug, muttering obscenities under your breath.

 

Kankri's voice was surprised. "Karkat. What--?"

 

"You idiot. You stupid idiot. I can't believe you did that for me, oh my God." Your throat tightens with every word. The floodgates of emotions burst open and you found yourself crying along with him. You couldn't stop the rush of hot tears and sobs that broke free.

 

"C-Cronus, did you--?" Kankri asked, voice crumbling.

 

Cronus shrugs. "It was the only way to get him to fully understand, Kan."

 

Kankri shakes with broken sobs. "Oh, Karkat, I didn't ever want you to go through that."

 

You squeeze him tighter, your chest pounding. "I can't believe you did that for me."

 

"I did it because I love you, Karkat." Kankri whispered softly. "And, trust me, I tried to come back for you, I really did. But when I'd gathered the money and the courage, you were already gone. Father, he told me that he had no idea where you'd ran off to. It wasn't until Cronus spotted you on the front cover of a tabloid magazine that I had any idea where you were. I didn't intend to leave you behind, Karkat. I really didn't."

 

The heaviest weight lifted off of your shoulders and you breathe a sigh of relief. Hearing those words made your heart soar. You weren't abandoned. You were loved.

 

"Oh shit. Dave." You pull away, fishing your phone out of your crumpled pants pocket and turning it on. Twenty-five missed calls, sixteen texts, and ten voice messages.

 

Kankri frowned a little, looking sheepish. "That was ringing all night, but I wasn't sure how to go about answering it without alarming him."

 

Your jaw dropped as you scroll through the texts, each one getting more frantic as the time had passed.

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 10:54 p.m.

 

**dude where are you**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11:01 p.m.

 

**im standing out front with the limo**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11:04 p.m.

 

**just waiting on you to show up so we can leave**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11:10 p.m.

 

**karkat seriously dude its been twenty minutes and the paparazzi wont cut the shit. hurry up pls b4 i end up as the pathetic lead story on tmz**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11: 27 p.m.

 

**the janitor just told me that he saw you leave dude**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11:34 p.m.

**karks honestly youre freaking me out**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11: 47 p.m.

 

**did something happen**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 11:55 p.m.

 

**i left the hotel because rose was getting impatient but all you have to do is call me and ill come get you where ever you are**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 12:20 a.m.

 

**im not going to be mad if something happened man ill understand**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 1:34 a.m.

 

**did you go home or some shit**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 2:15 a.m.

 

**i called the cops**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 4:30 a.m.

 

**the security footage at the hotel shows you shitfaced drunk**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 4:31 a.m.

 

**who was that guy**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 7:15 a.m.

 

**TH1S 1S 0FF1CER PYR0P3. W3 H4V3 TH3 M0T3L SURR0UND3D. >:] **

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 7:20 a.m.

 

**dude shes serious were right outside**

 

FROM: DBAG STRIDER. SENT AT 7:23 a.m.

**karkat shes coming in**

 

You look up, eyes wide. "Dave called the cops."

 

Kankri raised a knowing eyebrow at Cronus, wearing an expression of I told you so. "I told you that this would have major consequences, Cronus."

 

Cronus held his hands up in defense, backing up slowly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I ain't gettin' arrested for this shit, am I?"

 

Kankri turned his head to you, as if prompting you to answer the question. You shook your head, "No, no, I'll just talk to--"

_BANG! BANG!_

 

"Surrender or else!" A thick and familiar voice demanded, banging on the door repeatedly. The three of you jump in unison, turning to look at the door with alarmed expressions.

 

You press your palms to the door, trying to be calm about this. Slowly, you announce that you're exiting, and the banging ceases. You open it cautiously, peering in the crack as you came face to face with a tired looking Dave and a wild looking cop.

 

Dave threw his arms around you faster than you could blink. "Karkat, oh my fucking God."

 

You eyes widen as he squeezes you close, burying his face in your hair. It was strange to see him this worked up. His normal flawless hair was a mass of bedhead, his glasses were askew,  
and he was still wearing his wrinkled suit from last night. The shadow of stubble covered his cheeks as he met your eyes.

 

"I was so fucking worried." He mutters, low enough that only you can hear. Your eyes watered at the corners at the relief you felt in your chest. He was here. He had been worried. You had doubts in the back of your mind that he would. 

 

"Dave, I--"

 

He leaned in like he was going to kiss you, and your heart beat erratically in your chest. It was different this time, you wanted to kiss him and--

 

Kankri cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I believe we have a lot of explaining to do."


End file.
